Dark is the Water: The 33rd Hunger Games
by Emma-Rose199
Summary: Cas Ludwig is only in the Hunger Games because of his father's connection to the rebellion. He's not supposed to win. The gamemaker has specific instructions to make sure of it. But Cas has his own plans.
1. District 4

Disclaimer: All things The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. Unfortunately not me. Although I'd like to meet her.

Chapter 1

District 4

Reaping Day

I sit on the docks, breathing in that misty, salty air I might never get to breathe again. It dampens my dress shirt, causing it to stick to my back but I ignore it. The ocean is at its best this time of morning, its soft waves swaying the dock, the sun rays barely breaking the surface of the clouds.

Usually, the docks would be filled with fishermen, bringing in their morning hauls on boats such as the _Silver Arrow_, or leaving the ports to fish farther out at sea for the rare, exotic fish. But today, all the boats are docked, the sea empty and void of human presence.

I've come here every year before the Reaping since I was twelve. I wanted to have that image of the ocean in my mind forever, just in case. That last piece of myself I can't and will never lose.

"Cas, it's time to go," says my older brother Markus from behind me. I didn't even hear him walk up. I squint up at him, the overcast sky blurring my vision with bright white light. I dread the Reaping.

I think Markus does too.

We walk back to the house together in silence, leaving the docks and the ocean behind. Whoever is reaped today, I wish them luck. The sand is soft and grainy beneath my bare feet and I try to engrave that feeling into my mind like a permanent memory. Like I said, I do this every year. A precaution.

We reach the house, a small wooden cottage on the edge of the beach I've lived in my entire life. The white paint is peeling, the screen door squeals and unearthly sound and the salty air seeps through the warped boards, dampening the interior. This is home. At least it's easy to get to work.

I think of that as Markus opens the squealing door. We're instantly attacked by Goldilocks, our Golden Retriever, and I scratch her head absentmindedly. She waits for me by the door every time I leave the premises.

"Got him," says Markus as he enters the kitchen. I lean against the doorjamb and watch my mother braid my sister's hair as Goldilocks begs for attention at my feet. Milky light beams through the small window above the sink and creates odd shadows on the floor.

"Goldilocks, shush," I say softly to get her to settle down. She sits obediently until my little brother bounds in and she jumps on him. I roll my eyes. My mother finishes with my sisters hair and looks at us three boys, a hint of gloom scratching at her face as she sees me. I'm the only on eligible for the Reaping this year, since Markus turned nineteen last month and Gus and Cecilia are only six and eight.

"Well, we don't need to be late, now do we?" my mother closes the curtains over the window and the rooms grows darker. She smoothes her dress and tries to smile for Gus and Cecilia. This may be the last time I see any of them. Who knows what the capital has in store for us in punishments.

The escort for District 4 has been the same lady since probably the first games. You'd think she'd be tired of the job, but there she is on the stage, an ugly yellow wig standing high on her head that clashes with her red dress. Her name is Jezebel Troutman, but all of District 4 just calls her Trout because she talks like she's under water and her mouth is stuck in a permanent pucker like she's about ready to kiss someone. She used to be the laughing stock of my class when I was younger, but not since we all became eligible to be reaped. I'm more eligible than any of them. I'm pretty sure Snow remembers the assassination plot my father was behind. I'll never forget the day when twenty some peacekeepers banged down our door and ransacked our house only to find my mother, Markus. Cecilia and I huddled in the attic scared to the bone.

They've been watching us. But no matter what they think, none of us where my father is. The last time I heard, District 7, but that was six years ago.

I come to my senses and find an empty spot in the group of sixteen year old boys. I'm tall for my age, so I see over most the other guy's heads. Some of the guys try to talk to me but I shrug them off. I've never been much of a people person. I had a friend who was killed in the games a couple years ago. I haven't talked much since.

Jezebel lets her cackling laugh echo around everyone and it sends a shiver up my spine. The happiness in her voice is forced, which is a little odd. Capitol citizens always seem excited for the annual Hunger Games. She puts on a smile and I block out her words and look around the square where the citizens of District 4 stand silent, peacekeepers guarding them with their guns ready. I see my mother and Markus among them, staring at the stage with everybody else. I don't know why, but I clench my fist.

"…you all know the drill by now. Ladies first!" Jezebel reaches a bony hand into the glass bowl containing all the girls' names. She searches around the papers with grace until she finally plucks one up. I close my eyes.

"River Ainsley!"

A space clears in one of the roped off sections and a girl about my age steps out slowly. She's small but fierce looking, with sand colored hair and a knee length deep purple dress. Her face is determined as she goes up the stages' steps to stand next to a smiling Jezebel. River scans the crowd, like she's trying to guess who the boy tribute will be.

Jezebel walks over to the bowl that holds all the boys names and reaches a hand in. I cross my arms and glance at the other guys around me, wondering if they're thinking the same thing as me. Jezebel holds up a slip of paper and hesitates to read it, and I have this feeling that I know who it is. I take a deep breath and clench fistfuls of my loose shirt.

Her painted lips smile, like she knows the story behind the name. "Cas Ludwig!"

I knew this was coming but damn. Hearing your name called at the Reaping is some scary stuff. The guys around me push me forward. One slaps my back like this is a good thing. His father wasn't in the rebellion.

River watches me as I walk to the stage, probably theorizing how she'll kill me.

Jezebel wants us to bow. I don't. What's the use? I'm in a daze as she announces us tributes of the 33rd Hunger Games and the crowd applauds.

I don't even remember going into the justice building.

If I die, my fathers' life will be for nothing.

If I win, I'll die anyway because I'm not supposed to win.


	2. Hellos, Goodbyes, and Solemn Train Rides

Chapter 2

Hellos, Goodbyes, and Solemn Train Rides

Tribute List:

District 1

Name: Velvet Dover

Gender: F

Age: 16

Weapon: spear

Name: Glass Renshaw

Gender: M

Age: 18

Weapon: sword

District 2

Name: Astrid Modesto

Gender: F

Age: 14

Weapon: knife, spear

Name: Caliber Bromley

Gender: M

Age: 18

Weapon: pickax

District 3

Name: Luster Fritz

Gender: F

Age: 12

Weapon: electricity

Name: Spark Orsino

Gender: M

Age: 13

Weapon: slingshot, wire

District 4

Name: River Ainsley

Gender: F

Age: 16

Weapon: knife, traps

Name: Cas Ludwig

Gender: M

Age: 16

Weapon: hooks, knife, trident

District 5

Name: Magdalena Vorous

Gender: F

Age: 17

Weapon: Knife

Name: Quinton Millhouse

Gender: M

Age: 15

Weapon: dagger saw

District 6

Name: Aurelia Orestes

Gender: F

Age: 14

Weapon: N/A

Name: Phineas Laird

Gender: M

Age: 12

Weapon: N/A

District 7

Name: Hope Moran

Gender: F

Age: 15

Weapon: Ax

Name: Cedar Prektor

Gender: M

Age: 17

Weapon: spear, knife

District 8

Name: Gracia Weeder

Gender: F

Age: 13

Weapon: chakram

Name: Dion Eastwell

Gender: M

Age: 17

Weapon: pickax, saw

District 9

Name: Isabel Oakley

Gender: F

Age: 15

Weapon: N/A

Name: Mathias Charter

Gender: M

Age: 16

Weapon: rope, knife

District 10

Name: Chrysanthemum Gray

Gender: F

Age: 17

Weapon: whip, knife, ax

Name: Bo Mullan

Gender: M

Age: 15

Weapon: N/A

District 11

Name: Tangerine Wythe

Gender: F

Age: 18

Weapon: rocks

Name: Cadmus Wythe

Gender: M

Age: 15

Weapon: rock, knife, hands

District 12

Name: Lilly Arkin

Gender: F

Age: 17

Weapon: dagger

Name: Rocco Fields

Gender: M

Age: 18

Weapon: bow and arrow

The room in the justice building the peacekeepers left me in is small and damp with salty air, with one tiny window and a chair with the seat broken out of it. I can hear their voices through gap in the door, and tidbits of their hushed conversation leak out. I urge myself not to pay attention but the curiosity is killing me,

"-should've pre-reaped the girl too-"

"-lucky, he'll die in the bloodbath."

"-my son works with him on the docks-says he's tough-"

"-talk to the game makers-"

Quite a discouraging lot, they are. I'd like to think I have a chance in the games but I gotta be realistic: a District 4 tribute hasn't won in eight years. And that winner is seriously mentally damaged, I think.

I lean on the windowsill and loom out at the nearly empty square; citizens have gone home now to do whatever it is they do on their days off. I wish I could be with them.

The voices stop outside and the door creaks open, heavy footsteps entering.

"One hour," the peacekeeper says irritably.

I turn and my mother's there, throwing her arms around my waist. Seeing as I'm a full two heads taller than her. I hug her back loosely.

"Come home to us, Cas. Please, come home. I can't lose you too." She begins to sob and it takes all I have to not sob with her. This reminds me of when my father left to go on the run, that sinking feeling of knowing we might never see him again. I'll be expected to be a career, no doubt about that, but I refuse to be a part of them. I've seen them kill one of their own without hesitation. I'd be better off hanging upside down over a shark in a cage.

Markus pries my mother off of me and takes her place, except he's all business. Eyes latched onto mine, he places his hands on my shoulders. "You know why you're here right?" he whispers, barely moving his lips.

I nod slowly, eyeing the peacekeeper guarding the door. I randomly wonder if anyone has ever tried to run out of here.

He nods briefly. "Don't let them get to you. They're going to try to kill you in every possible way; keep a look out. Don't ally up-especially not with River or the Careers. That risks more lives-theirs along with yours." Don't the games risk lives anyways? "Get whatever weapons you can. Kill if it saves your life-" I cringe; I can't imagine killing another person. "-Do anything in your power to win, okay? You can do this, Cas."

I swallow and nod again, looking away over his shoulder. He hesitates, like he has something else to say, then pats my shoulder. I'm oath-bound to this now. I can't disappoint them. I don't even want to think of what would happen if I didn't come home. What if I do die in the games? What if my death doesn't satisfy the game makers? Cecilia would be next. Perhaps even Gus. I can't let my younger siblings fall prey to the capitol too because I failed.

I slide to the floor and Cecilia and Gus climb in next to me. I squeeze Gus' shoulders like I used to when he was three and afraid of thunderstorms. Cecilia latches on to my arm and I feel her fingernails dig into my forearm. They don't say anything, which I'm grateful for. I don't want to explain to them that I might not be coming back.

My mother sits down next to Cecilia and strokes her hair. She takes my hand like she would if I was five and we were crossing the street. Markus leans against the far wall, keeping his distance like always. He changed when dad left. He turned cold, always down to business and never the goofy, carefree older brother I remember from when I was a kid.

The silence is agonizing, deafening really, but I can't think of a single thing to say.

The peacekeeper returns a while later, impatiently shooing my family out. My mother squeezes my hand. "Goodbye, Cas. Remember you have a mother that will always be proud of you no matter what happens."

I smile feebly. Why would she be proud if I died? I sure wouldn't.

Gus tears away from her and clashes into me, his face wet. "Don't go."

I try to pry him off and the peacekeeper shoots me angered look. What, are they on a time schedule? "I have to go," I say blandly, hating myself for my own words. _I have to go _echoes inside my head and opens a door to a whole new idea.

The peacekeeper pulls Gus off me of and Gus' fingers nearly rip a hole in my shirt. "I'll be okay, Gus. Take care of mom and Cecilia, okay? And stay out of my stuff."

I regret my words instantly because it just makes him cry harder. I hear his cries until they fade down the hall.

Two more peacekeepers come in and take my arms, leading me down the hall at a pace my legs find hard to keep up with. I try to shake them off. "I can walk myself you know. It's what legs are for," I snap. The peacekeeper on my right laughs, a boom that echoes inside of his white helmet. He tightens his hold on my bicep and I feel my fingers start to numb. Evidently they think I won't need my blood supply.

I clench my jaw and make it an effort for them to pull me forward. If I'm going down, I'm not going down without a fight.

The peacekeepers throw me into the train, the dining car to be exact. I rub my bicep, thinking of the bruises I'll find there later. The dining car is decorated in blues, greens, and whites, with big sea green chairs and a birch wood table. A mural of sea life stretches over one wall, while the other is lined with tall windows. A fireplace takes up the back, a gold-framed mirror hanging above.

River sits in one of the chairs, her purple dress spilling over the edge of the chair and hiding her legs. I've never met her, just seen her in the halls at school and occasionally on the docks.

She looks up from her hands, as if she sensed me examining her, and watches me closely as I lower into the squishy chair across from her. The cushion sinks under me and she laughs at my expression.

"Cas Ludwig." She leans forward, unsmiling, gray eyes glinting. "Want to be allies?"

I cock a brow at her and place my elbows on my knees. "I don't want to be a part of the Careers, River. Not," I add, "That it wouldn't be fun allying with you." I can't believe I just said that.

She smirks. "I didn't say we had to be. And I can't imagine how it would be fun."

I shrug, and Markus' words ricochet across my mind. "Actually, now that I think about, I don't want to be allies with you either." River seems like the type that likes cynicism, so I'm going to shoot it right back at her. Bad tactic, I know, because it will just give her another good reason to murder me in the arena. But it keeps her safe.

She looks mildly hurt. "What are you going to do, go off alone?"

I consider this, staring at the bowl of colorful fruit on the table between us. I realize I haven't eaten anything since yesterday. "That's exactly what I plan to do." I think about telling her about my issue with the game maker's vengeance on me, but I don't. That might just endanger her even more. And what if she tells somebody else? Then I'm a goner for sure.

I take a green apple and bite into it, sweet juice filling my mouth. River continues to scold me with her eyes. I can already see her as a Career. She's got the personality.

I'm about to ask her if she has any plans when the door opens with a whoosh, and Jezebel, wearing an even more hideous dress, strolls in, followed by our deranged mentor.

Gabriel O' Dell.

I was only eight when he won his games, the first Quarter Quell, but he looks exactly as I remember him, with a few changes give or take. Tall, with sun browned skin, close-cropped brown skin and a 5 o'clock shadow. He has on black trousers and a wrinkled tan tunic with the collar unlaced. He scowls when he sees us. If I remember right, he won by chopping off the head of the boy from 8.

Jezebel smiles broadly, the thick powder on her face cracking. "Children, children, are we getting along?" she places her hands on my shoulders and it sends a creepy shiver down my spine. I stand to face her.

"We don't need to get along," I say. She pales but that stupid smile remains on her face.

"Oh, leave them alone, Jez. They don't have much time left to strategize, you know." Gabriel laughs at his own joke and collapses in the chair next to River. He throws an affectionate smile at her and she rolls her eyes.

"Gabriel, for the last time, do not call me Jez. It's…inappropriate."

River and I laugh and she glares at us. Gabriel smirks. "You said that last time."

Dinner comes in courses, which is apparently how they eat in the capitol. A runny soup filled with long noodles and celery, the green tinted rolls that are special to our District, cheese that tastes faintly like spoiled milk, oysters and steamed baked potatoes, even a cherry pie. Jezebel keeps urging us to drink this black tea that supposed to be strengthening, but I think it tastes like watered down sand. I barely eat any of the soup, and the rolls don't taste like they should. The cherry pie is so unlike anything I've ever had I take two slices. Gabriel makes smart remarks throughout the meal, and I notice he doesn't even touch his heaping plate of food. River only eats the oysters. She tries to get me to try them but I refuse. Last time I had oysters I puked all over Markus.

We go to a different car to watch the recap of the reapings. A long, bright blue couch takes up most of the space, and Gabriel slumps on the farthest end, examining his fingernails. I try to remember the games last year, any memory of him helping the tributes, but I remember nothing. I consider asking him if he knows about any of the game makers' plans for me. I need to know what I'm up against; he reapings only cover a little of that.

I need to win.

"When are we going to get to the Capitol?" I ask, staring at the back of Jezebel's pink clad head.

"In the morning," she answers without looking at me. River gives me an odd look and I sit as far away from her as I can.

We watch the other reapings, starting with District 1. Names run through one ear and out the other, but some definitely stand out. A broad boy from District 1 steps forward to volunteer for a crippled boy. The District 3 tributes are just kids, barely thirteen. Our District is next, and I watch River wind through the crowd to the stage, her dress fluttering behind her, and I hesitantly look away as I watch myself quietly make my way to the stage, shoulders set, face grim. The boy from District 7 looks like a lumberjack, and the girl from District 10, Chrysanthemum something, is both gorgeous and deadly. I could tell by her posture. The District 11 tributes are brother and sister, which is horrible really, and the boy from District 12- Paco? Rocco?- I make a mental note to not mess with. They cut to the anthem and Gabriel snorts as the program ends.

"They get smaller and stupider every year," he mumbles.

"Then why don't you try to help us so you won't have to watch this every year?" River asks unexpectedly.

Gabriel doesn't answer her.

Jezebel fixes her bright pink wig, staring at Gabriel like he just told her she was going into the arena. "Your mentor has mental issues."

"Obviously," I mutter.

She glares at me. "Don't be so quick to comment, Mr. Ludwig. He gives you advice, lines up any sponsors, and presents any gifts being given to you. He might as well be the one to decide if you live or die!"

Her mouth thins to a tight line and River catches my eye. I look Gabriel, who just wears a smirk and files his nails with the edge of one of the butter knives from dinner. Jezebel huffs and sinks back into the couch, and her wig is knocked forward so it covers her eyes. She shoves it back irritably. River catches my eye again and raises her eyebrows expectantly.

I get it then. Gabriel is no real help to us, and Jezebel won't be able to do much once we're in the arena. Going against Markus' advice I nod at her.

I've just become allies with River Ainsley.


	3. The Capitol

Chapter 3

The Capitol

I stare out the window at the nothingness that must be the tunnel winding through the mountains to the capitol. I'm alone, so I take the time to think over some things. Markus, mother, Cecilia, and Gus are fine. Markus will have to take over my job at the docks since Gus is not old enough. I tell myself over and over again that they'll manage without me. But I have this haunting feeling that something's going to happen to them while I'm not there. Something done by the Capitol. I shake the feeling out of my head and clutch the windowsill. If I let things like feelings distract me now I'm not even going to make it through the bloodbath. I thought about telling River again, about why I'm here. They'll find out though. The Capitol seems to know everything.

The door of the compartment opens and River steps in, dressed in a pair of lime green pants and a bright yellow top that hurts my eyes. "Do you have to wear such bright clothes?" I ask. The closet in the car I slept in was fully stocked with clothes that were oddly my size- I'd imagined hers was too.

She laughs, and it's a nice laugh. "These were the dullest colors I could find." She leans on the doorjamb. "You weren't at breakfast."

I turn away from the window. "I don't eat breakfast," I lie. The thought of eating anything right now makes me sick. She doesn't say anything else; just stands there and watches me. "Is that all?" I ask. I shove my red dress shirt from yesterday in the Capitol issued bag we're supposed to put our clothes in. I wonder where they'll go. This shirt was expensive.

"Jezebel said we're almost to the Capitol. Apparently our stylists are picking us up at the station. Any last words?"

I can tell she's serious but I dodge the question. I have last words but she doesn't need to know them. "Finally. I'm sick of this train."

She narrows her eyes but she doesn't push it any farther. "Well, I don't have anything to say either so don't feel bad." I wonder if she's lying. "What are we going to do, Cas?"

Without looking at her, I shove my pants in the bag with the shirt. "What are we going to do about what?"

"In the arena."

"Survive," I say, which is basically my tactic so far. I need to meet the other tributes before I make any decisions.

She's about to say something when bright light floods the compartment. I go to the window and stare out but River stays by the door. She frowns.

Towering, gleaming buildings so shiny and clean they look like they're made of glass. The mountains surround the city and I can see paved roads winding up through them and into the distance. Bridges span out to other parts of the city, they're structures massive and delicately designed. I've never seen a city so beautiful. It's nothing compared to the image we see on the TV back home.

River comes to stand next to me then, the sunlight reflecting off her gray eyes, turning them blue. "The ocean is prettier," she says. She glances at me and then leaves. I stare after her, and I have to agree.

The ocean is prettier.

As soon as we get to the stylists' building, River and I are ushered off to different rooms. Jezebel and Gabriel are no where to be seen and suddenly I feel alone with these strange people. Two men and a woman, all sporting bizarre hairstyles and strange clothes, lead me down a dim hallway with walls covered with picture frames. My guess, past tributes.

We take the elevator up and he woman, who's holding my hand against my will, turns to me and smiles broadly, showing off artificial white teeth behind her deep green lips. "You have such soft skin, my dear, what do you use?" she asks in a high-pitched voice that annoys me.

"Um…" I'm not sure what to say. What do I use? I don't know.

We step out of the elevator and she laughs, which annoys me even more. How much longer to I have to be with them? "It's the salt in District 4 isn't it? I hear salt water does wonders for your skin." She laughs again and I pull my hand from hers. We enter a good-sized room, with three blank walls; the fourth had two doors engraved in. A comfy looking chair sat in the middle surrounded by clothes racks and tables covered in odds and ends belonging to the stylists. I suddenly want to run out of here but one of the guys closes the door behind me and gives me a smile not unlike the woman's.

All three of them turn to me and I feel cornered. The woman speaks first, her purple curls bouncing. "I'm Esmeralda, this is Pierre-" she gestures to the bald guy with green skin. He gives me a creepy look, like he knows what I'm thinking. "-And this is Tiberius." the smiling guy with the short, unnatural black hair and cat eyes nods at me. "We're your prep team!" she sounds so excited. "Now let's get started."

An hour later I'm sitting in the chair with nothing but a pair of swimming trunks on. Tiberius and Esmeralda flutter around me fixing anything they think is an "imperfection". They even cut my hair and washed it with this soap that smells like overripe cherries to me. I wouldn't let them touch my eyebrows. I think they got mad at me for that.

"You need to lotion him," says Pierre from behind me. He hasn't even done anything.

Esmeralda waves him off with her inch long blue fingernails. "His skin is so soft. He won't need it." She stands back and examines every inch of my body. I stare off into space and ignore her. I'm better off to just let them do their work.

"You look like a gorgeous human being now!" Tiberius exclaims. These people are so over joyous and fake it's hard to not just sit here and laugh.

"I'm flattered," I say blandly.

They don't notice how I don't sound all happy like them and bustle about the room. I inspect my hands which no longer bear my short, chipped fingernails or that scar I've had forever on my right thumb. Just gleaming, white skin. I don't know if I should be angry or glad.

Pierre steps up beside me and leans in so his mouth is right next to my ear. "Your father was a bad boy, wasn't he?" His tone is low and dark. I narrow my eyes at him and he walks away like nothing happened.

He knows something I don't.

Esmeralda hands me a gray bathrobe and tries to put it on for me but I take over. The other door opens and a woman with shiny silver hair laced with purple steps through. She smiles warmly and she reminds me of my grandmother then. "I'm Floris, your stylist, and you are Cas I presume?"

"Yes."

"Good." She waves away the prep team, Pierre giving me cold look before he leaves. She walks in a slow circle around me and I wonder what she's looking at, seeing as I'm wearing a bathrobe. "That should do it." She stops. "Your hair. Wasn't it longer?"

"They cut it," I say. It barely reaches my jaw now.

She frowns. I wonder if they weren't supposed to.

"Well, it'll work I suppose. Now, Cas, we need to talk about your costume for the opening ceremonies." She starts to walk around me again. "I've conversed with my partner, Glenn, and we've come up with a creative theme for the costumes you and River will where. Now, let me ask you. Do you have any skin allergies? To, let's say, glitter paint?"

My stomach nearly comes up through my mouth.

They put me in the ugliest costume I have ever seen. The prep team loves it of course, and they're counting on the rest of the Capitol loving it too.

I'm in a basic white diving suit that covers everything but my face. Then things went south when Esmeralda sprayed this sticky blue glitter all over me. She had me close my eyes and hold my breath as she sprayed on my face and through my hair. It's supposed to look like scales when the light built into the suit changes, she said. I'm gonna look ridiculous. This glitter stuff is already starting to itch.

Esmeralda tries to plump up my hair but it's too stiff with glitter. "You two will look like glittering fish in the water!" she said flippantly. Were gonna look like fish? That's what they come up with for our costumes this year? Markus is never going to let me forget this. I guess it's not as bad as that year the tributes were dressed like mermaids.

I follow the prep team out the door stiffly. Once this glitter stuff dried, I can barely move. On the elevator, Floris studies me carefully, poking and prodding and fixing whatever she doesn't like. I stand there stiff as a statue and fight the urge to slap her hand away and run out of there.

Once we're on the bottom floor, I see River with her stylist and the prep team accompanying her. She wears the same costume as me, except hers hugs her curves and her hair is pin straight and blue. Her grimace mirrors my own and a laugh is caught in my chest.

Tiberius opens a door that reveals the rest of the bottom floor, where the chariots are being loaded. The tributes from the other eleven districts are scattered around the room by their chariots. They all have elaborate costumes but I'm unable to tell which district they're from.

The stylists usher us to our chariot. The white horses are sprayed with blue glitter also and I feel sorry for them. Tiberius and a pink skinned man from River's prep team help us up and position us so. I let them only because we're probably on camera. I glance at River and she shakes her head, gesturing to her prep team. Her lashes are black and full against her blue skin and her gray eyes are the only other color difference. She actually looks great, and I'm about to tell her so when the opening music begins over head. My heart picks up speed as I realize we're about to enter the city.

Esmeralda's smile fades. "You are fourth so we better hurry!"

Pierre, of all people, hops up onto the chariot, followed by Rivers stylist, a man with pale skin and long, pale blonde hair. I give Pierre a dirty look. He just stares at me.

Massive doors slide open and reveal the city streets packed with oddly colorful people. They're all cheering and I catch a glimpse of a large screen that will show close-ups of all the tributes. District 1, dressed entirely in gold chains and diamonds, rides out on they're chariot pulled by white and gold horses. I hear the crowd scream their names, their first names.

Pierre and Rivers' stylist jump off our chariot and I realize we're glowing. I look at River, whose costume is rippling with light and blue-green hues like actual scales. She tries to raise her eyebrows but then winces.

I look back up just in time to see District 3 ride out on their chariot. I glance down and Esmeralda smiles up at us. She mouths, "Good luck".

Our chariot lurches forward and I almost fall. River nudges me. "Wave," she whispers in my ear.

The crowd roars when they see us and I search for the TV I saw. There we are, shimmering like wet fish. River smiles and waves to the crowd enthusiastically. I look like an idiot just standing there so I start waving too, but the gesture is empty. I feel the glitter paint crinkle up and crack on my waving arm. I wonder what my family thinks of all this. Cecilia always loves the costumes.

The crowd starts screaming our first names then. "Cas!" "River!" "Cas!" "River!"

I don't like it at all.

I smile blandly at them and wave. The sound of all their voices is deafening. I think of the time when I was three or four and my father took Markus and I to the city hall back in District 4 for a musical concert. I sat on his shoulders and cheered with everybody else, and it was exciting. This is nothing like that.

Someone throws a bouquet of white roses at us and River catches it expertly. She air kisses them and plucks and rose from it. She shoves it in my hand so I have to wave the rose back and forth. I don't really know what I'm doing but the crowd doesn't care. They like how we look and that's all that matters. As long as it gets us sponsors.

The twelve chariots fill the City Circle and I can see the others now in the dimming light. The lights in our costumes begin to heat up a little and I can feel them stinging my back, like those hot rocks my mother likes. If we catch on fire out here they'll just send us into the arena anyway.

President Snow, a skinny man with jet black hair slicked back with gel, makes his speech from the balcony while the faces of all tributes take up the screen. I unknowingly give him a menacing stare, for he's the reason my family was split apart all those years ago. I've never been this close to him, and I hope I never have to again. When the screen displays our faces, I look away. River continues to wave and smile and I try to too. Bright lights flash from everywhere, the crowd roars again and suddenly our chariot is moving again. We make one last circle around the City Circle before we're locked in the Training Center. The doors slam closed behind us and suddenly the stylists and the prep teams are there, bursting with giddiness at our show. Floris helps us down and my head spins. The lights are so hot now I feel like I'm on fire. Pierre and Tiberius shut off our costumes and Esmeralda gives me a much unneeded hug. "You're both so beautiful!"

I just nod to make her happy. River gives me a pained look.


End file.
